laugardagur, 21 júlí

Today was the "easy walk" in the Krafla geothermal area. We started at the "Kitchen of the Devil" where steam vents roared and mudpots bubbled in subtle shades of grey, yellow, white, and brownish-orange. The bordering hills were reddish and we could see the steam vents dotting their hillsides, and occasionally the ground was warm. Sulfur was the essence du jour. The boiling mud was a bit hypnotic - I found myself watching for patterns of bubble, bubble, erupt, simmer, bubble, bubble and sometimes that's what happened. Magma was right under the surface we were standing on, driving home the idea that this was indeed a very active volcanic area, in case we had any doubts.

The lava fields we crossed on our drive to Viti were quite varied - some appearing furrowed like long rows where one would plant watermelons and covered with a grey-green moss, then a very green grassy area, and then an area of jumbled, coal black lava.

The Krafla geothermal field is extremely powerful. It last erupted in 1975 and now provides a substantial amount of power via steam to this area of Iceland. For more information on how some of this energy is used, see http://www.lv.is/EN/category.asp?catID=313 The crater we first climbed, however, was named Viti, aka "Hell". It was formed during the 1724 eruption and is now considered inactive. Despite its name, it's a very beautifully-shaped 325 m wide explosion crater with a deep blue-colored lake, and on one of its flanks mud and water bubble. You can see the pipes that carry the steam away from the station - Sólla told us that they were lined in a "steel wool", and I have a feeling sheep actually contribute to this insulation. A short drive brought us to the beginning of the Leirhnjúkur hike. This was the other place outside of the hotsprings where we saw warning signs.











The first hillside had that beautiful mottling of tan, grey, black, orange, some yellow - just beautiful because it always seemed to be reflecting light. There was also steam emanating from a couple of places, so we followed the directions and kept to the boardwalk or marked dirt path. Black lava was the newest, probably from the 1975 - 84 eruptions, and the mossier lava was probably from the 1724 - 29 eruption. We walked around huge, lumpy fields of lava, looked back on part of the Krafla fissure where the swarm of eruptions burped out the magma that created our current path (and which is where the North American plate and the Eurasian plates slowly separate each year), climbed into a more benign-than-not steam vent, stood under 10' tall lava tubes that had spiky tiny 1" stalactites of lava pointing down, walked on top of collapsed lava tubes that clinked and tinkled like fragile panes of glass as we stepped on them, found our way up and down one hill in order to get around a large crater, followed the white picket markers religiously, climbed over stiles, walked along a golf course, and found our way back to Reykjahlið at Mývatn. I suppose it was around a 10 km hike.









I stopped at the store for postcards and to see what all they carried - lots of automotive supplies, ice cream, black licorice, chocolate covered black licorice, yogurt, and packed nut and dried fruit mixes. This one the best name - (in case it doesn't enlarge, it's called YOMAMA MIX)The dinner of pasta ("You say pAsta, I say pAHsta") fueled a late night discussion of the important things in life - losing keys and glasses, martinis, the barbecue place down the street next to the church that had a stunning buffet tonight, more Monty Python "don't mention the war", the Icelandic driver who strongly resembled the Paulie Walnuts character on The Sopranos, the French couple on absolutely overloaded recumbant bicycles riding very slowly down the hill into the camping area (and the French who were camped out next to us, on seeing the French flags flying from the backs of the bicycles burst into "La Marseillaise"), and young ladies from Essex. There was lots of camaraderie throughout the camp. In fact, not only did a gent from somewhere in Europe, in anticipation of his shower whenever the next private stall was available, take off all his clothes while standing next to me as I brushed my teeth in the coed bathroom, but a lady from yet a different country "mooned" me (she had leaned over to towel off her hair outside of the private shower stall) when I walked in earlier that day. Sorry, no pictures of either of those.

Around 23.00 we decided that the rest of the camp had probably heard enough of us, and we all turned in.